Obsidian
by Captain Octopi
Summary: Chelsea, a runaway looking for a new place to call home, takes a boat ride to a distant island only to have it sink into the dark depths of the frigid ocean. She awakes on the shores of Sunny Island with amnesia and scars leading down her arms, tainted reminders of her unknown past. Here, she attempts to leave her past to rest, but can't seem to find her way out.
1. Anywhere But Here

Skip A/N if desired. Story will begin at the end of the italics.

_Hey guys! I have been waaaaay too anxious to get this up, so I decided; fine, I'll do two stories at once. I've already got over eight chapters done for this one._

_If you've read any of my other story, _Seeing the Grey_, this will probably seem a tad elementary compared to it. That's only for the first few chapters though; I wrote them almost a year ago._

_I have been scouring this site for an awesome Chelsea/Vaughn fic, but I only found alright ones, and very few actually interested me. There are way too many with the same awful cliches: the apartment scene, the dead animal thing, the completely unlovable, depressed characters that somehow fall in love with each other._

_Honestly? Being a depressed low-life is not going to get you a cheery, care-free girlfriend. (Trust me; at least half of the fics I glanced at portrayed Vaughn as a crotchety old man.) So, you guessed it: this is a Chelsea/Vaughn fic. And I'm going to try my best with it.  
_

_Anyway, sorry about that little rant. Beware the um... unorganized wrath of the first two chapters. Thanks to everyone who reviews!_

* * *

"You've got to be kidding me," Chelsea breathed through the fabric of her hoodie, fingering something. After shoving the paper back in her pocket, she drew the hood up over her head and tightening it with a sudden yank. Twenty Dollars. That was it. The hundred she had collected from her father's drawer must've blow out of her pocket, into the feisty winds.

The alley was dark and eerie, but she was well-accustomed to it along with the loneliness of her own echoing footsteps. She'd spent years wandering around here to escape from the horror, and finally she'd mustered her courage to leave it behind and never turn back.

She snuggly set her hands in her pocket and continued down the back path, unsure of where to go. Thunder called menacingly overhead; she had to find somewhere soon.

She turned down the sidewalk, gazing up at the harbor to see gray skies settled behind the hard-working sailors, yelling and quickly trying to get the nets from the boats. Rough, crashing waves licked the docks, pouring their sea-salted water beneath the their old boots. Three times a bell sounded to alert boarding along with the yells of a hearty old man clad in blue and white. He waved several passengers aboard. They clutched their coats to block out the icy wind, a mark that winter still existed in this early springtime.

Chelsea gazed upwards, into the gray and puffy skies, to have a drop splash onto the bridge of her nose and roll down past her lips. The hood had loosened and was now falling slack around her face, gathering the new rainfall. There's no way she could navigate out here in the upcoming storm.

Her glance yanked back to the waves as the man boarded the ship, her feet moving more swiftly than her mind. She stomped onto the docks and caught the boat by the side as she looked the man in the eye.

"How much for a ticket?" she spat out before her mind could register what she was doing.

He tipped his hat down and a smirk appeared on his lips. "Where do you - "

"I don't care where this is going as long as it's anywhere but here. How much?"

The man scanned her for all but a second before motioning with his hand, sending hope across the girl's face. "C'mon aboard."

The boat jerked in her hands, an uproarious horn sounding above them all. He extended his hand to her with a smile on his face, and she vaulted the side of the ship, relieved that she would be going somewhere. Her steps faltered on the newly-slick boards beneath them, but he caught her and strongly escorted her below deck.  
"Th-thank you. Here," she said, pulling out the only cash she had. He chuckled and gestured against it.

"No need. You look like you might need that later."

She nodded, ignoring the insult, and slipped the currency back into her pocket. Her deep, ocean eyes search his robust green ones, surrounded by deep wrinkles. His scruffy hair was white, and he was a seasoned captain and fisherman, clearly shown by his garb.

Chelsea also looked just as she was: young and poor. Her hair almost to the point of matting, her clothes disheveled and disorganized, her skin pasty with a swipe of dirt across her cheek, and her personality meek. However, her eyes were overwhelmed with hope and gratitude, something rarely seen by the captain.  
He pointed across the hall to an unused room. "We do not have many passengers, so by all means, take a room. We will alert you once we have docked."

"Thank you again," she mumbled sincerely, walking about the swaying room. It was much like her room at home with the blue paint, twin-sized, white mattress and sheets, and the plain dresser pushed into the corner.  
"My pleasure. May I get a name?"

"Chelsea," she returned, and he shut the door before anything else could be said.

For awhile she sauntered around the tiny room, just gazing at everything as many times as she pleased - though there wasn't much to see - before seating herself slowly on the bed. Instantly, deeply sunken into the covers, she felt comfortable for the first time in a long time. Her body tipped back into them, her feet swinging up into the air. A grin broke out on her face.

Free. She was finally free.

Before she had longed to be just like her brother; bold enough to stand up for himself and brave enough to move out, but those were the things she hated him for too. He left her behind, and she was only eight years old.

_"Brother, where are you going?"_

_"To college, like a big university. It's like school, but I kinda am going to stay there for awhile," he informed, tossing his baseball cap on backwards and sliding a box off the table._

_Chelsea ran around his boxes scattered about the room, wanting to open them up and unpack everything. She halted right next to him._

_"I don't want you to leave. It's better right here at home!" she pouted, pulling at the tail of his shirt._

_"I have to. I promise to visit whenever I can," he said, "Mom and dad will take care of you."_

_"But I'm going to miss you! Please, brother."_

_He knelt next to her, tousled her chestnut hair, and gave a regretful smile. "Aw, Chels, you're makin' me feel bad." His sea foam green eyes gleamed, sorry._

_"Who am I going to play with?" she uttered gloomily._

_His grin widened whimsically. "Come on, you, Kenzie, and Paris play together all the time. And every time I visit, I'll schedule time just for you and me, okay?"_

_A faint light shimmered over her misty blue eyes. "Okay."_

_Their parents barged into the room and scooped up the remaining boxes. Mark took one in his hands, still focused on his little sister._

_"C'mon," he said._

_They gathered outside and dumped the last of his things in the bed of the his gray pickup. Mark knelt next to the tiny Chelsea one last time, easing a piece of red fabric into her hand. _

_"I want you to have this, Chels. Uh, mom gave it to me when I was little, so...yeah. Hold onto it," he said, eyeing their mother oddly. She just shrugged and Chelsea tightened her grip with a saddened smile._

_"Mama, when will we see brother again?" the little brunette questioned quietly once her brother had driven away._  
_Her mother placed her hands on Chelsea's shoulders and said, "Sweetie, it might be a few months, but we'll see him again soon - don't worry."_

Chelsea straightened herself. She missed her mother so much she couldn't help but sob when ever she thought too much about her. Slowly, she shook her head, trying to dislodge the memory.

That's when things were good. They should still be like that, but they're not.

She dragged herself from the bed, immediately falling to the floor with a long, steady jerk. Her head nearly slammed into the dresser. Thunder rolled ominously and lightning cracked wickedly outside. A faint yell came from the hall, so she scrambled to her feet and tore open the door just to allow water to slosh into the room. She swung her hood off her head to get a better view of the happening.

More sailors screamed, but there was no one in the passage. Her attention turned to the heavy door to the deck. Once her grip closed tightly around it, she pulled on it uselessly. Locked.

Her curiosity suddenly morphed to panic. Like a jet, the seawater poured though the gaps, spraying her worn jeans. She yanked again. And again.

"Come on!" She tried and thrust her fist into the wood. "Open!"

Like an instinct, she kicked the door with all her might and ripped the lock from the wall. But when she tried to propel herself forward, her feet sluggishly sloshed through the water - which came up to her knees now - and slowly hurried above deck.

The rain fell down as a hazy sheet, obscuring view and striking down on the deck like little piercing shards of glass. She whirled around, shouted over and over without any reply. The sailors were gone, and she was to be soon too. She was too late, and it finally occurred to her what was happening.

Running to the side of the ship, she found no lifeboats, life preservers, or jackets through the rain-hazed air.  
Her soaking hair flipped around over her face as she turned more, trying to find a way out. She could stay here, but then she'd get devoured by the ocean that hungrily lapped at the deck. However, she couldn't do anything else either.

She's going to drown, and there's no way to stop it.

Her footing slipped and she slammed down on the deck, her terrified gaze finding the bow of the ship, promptly sinking below the waves.

A rush of water leapt at her, catching her by surprise and knocking her off the edge of the ship. Cool, spastic ocean overwhelmed her the moment she gasped for air, locking the salty liquid inside her lungs. It trapped her beneath it and for only seconds she fought before giving in to the torrent.

Fighting wouldn't make her live. She was going to die; that's it. And dying was still better than being back home. Her body fell limp and was sucked beneath the rage where the water was calmer.

Her eyelids came ajar just to stare up at the crashing waters and her arms which daintily followed the rest of her body. The salt stung her eyes, her throat, her lungs, her sinuses; everything. But still, she sucked in another watery breath just to end it sooner. Her face and body constricted, instinctively fighting when she didn't want to.

The current and her own thrashing pulled at the sleeve of her hoodie the moment her body quit, revealing pain-ridden scars that carried up her arm, revealing the things she tried to get away from, and they now haunted her in her final moments.

The last bubbles escaped her lips and her eyelids fell as she dropped deeper, deeper into the abyssal depths. Her brother's face flashed in her mind one last time before darkness settled in around her. It was crude as a result of her memory, and it unearthed the dead words she hoped on for so long.

_"We'll see him again soon - don't worry."_

* * *

The captain looked frantically around the boat.

"Is Chelsea here?" he called.

The pinkish haired girl in front of him turned, holding the tarp over her head. She glanced at him with irate eyes, giving him a crazed expression. She mouthed, "Huh?" as the lifeboat swayed back and forth, nearly overturning and they recoiled. The crashing of waves sounded just as cacophonously as the thunder screeching above. He quickly repeated his words, leaning to her.

"Who's Chelsea?" she yelled back. "The only people here are - "

He didn't hear the rest of her words over the awful, despairing hole coalescing in his stomach, not the sounds outside. The rain beating down on them, the waves that threatened to consume them, and the thunder that rung as a knell for their own deaths were nothing. All moisture in his mouth evaporated, and his eyes widened madly.  
"Oh my goddess," he muttered.

The girl returned her focus on not capsizing the raft as he gazed off into space.

That poor girl was dead. He'd sent that girl to her death.

* * *

_Oh deary me. It was really painful to not go through and fix this, but... ugh._


	2. New Life

Natalie glanced around the broken, lost town. The buildings were dark, dreary, and full of insects and small wildlife. One of the nearer homes had a bunch of weeds sprouting through the worn-out floorboards. She immediately shut the door on that house. However, the houses further into the town looked salvageable and in fair condition.

"These houses look in pretty good shape actually," she commented, fixing her headband.

Elliot pushed on the door, disappointed that it didn't work smoothly. "Are you so sure, Nat?"

She passed him a glare. "Just because it's a little beat up doesn't mean it doesn't work," she remarked. "I think we should take this one."

Elliot grimaced, wishing he could say he would prefer the house on the other side of the town, but he refused to argue with her...or anyone.

"C'mon. Let's go tell Gramps the news," she announced, marching away.

Elliot frowned, picking at the flaky wood on the door. "Hey," he called before reluctantly catching up with her. "Uh, how long do you think these have been here?"

"I don't know," she replied bluntly. Her pink-haired brother sighed and followed her back to the beach where their grandfather and mother were still resting.

They stepped onto the beach and peered out at their family. Taro stomped around with adventurous intentions in mind. His daughter, Felicia, sat peacefully in the sand, looking out to the now calm ocean. The sun rose in the distance along with a ship casually sailing away from the island.

"Woah! Wait! Do you guys see that ship?" Elliot asked, panicked.

"Yes, and the captain just left on it. Now, how is the island?" Taro demanded, placing his hands on his old, feeble hips. His face expressed his old age, but his spirit was of a young man. He wore a pleased grin as Elliot's face fell.

"Some of the buildings look rough, but we found some that'll work," Natalie said.  
"Ah. No inhabitants?"

"Other than animals, no," she confirmed, curling back her lips despondently.

The old man nodded. "I see. So we have a lot of work to do."

Felicia sighed and interrupted. "Yes, but you shouldn't have let them go out on their own. You know they're young."

"We're adults, mom, we can handle ourselves," Elliot mumbled. Natalie reluctantly nodded in agreement.

"Oh, but you're still inexperienced and I don't want you two getting hurt," their mother insisted. Natalie rolled her eyes and stepped away. Elliot just accepted it.

Since they landed on the island, Taro's mind was set on making it a prosperous community. The captain, who wouldn't even mention his own name, just sat and wilted on the beach while the others passed out elsewhere. Elliot was certain they were going to fail at this, considering they only had five people. No - four people. The captain was no better than a rotting leaf when they woke, and Taro sent him on his way as soon as a boat pulled into the shallow water. Natalie and Elliot scampered off to go check out the island and found the ghost town.

"Have faith in them, Felicia. Now, I believe this island needs a name... Sunny Island!" he proposed with a glance at the sun.

Natalie shrugged and plopped down in the sand next to a slimy, seaweed-infested rock. "That's it? Sounds fine, I guess."

Elliot whirled away from them and started down the beach. He kicked at the sand, sending it spraying up into the air, onto his boots. Shells were scatter amongst the shoreline, and the remains of a dock waved in the water, attached to the land with only a single board. His eyes trailed the water's edge and settled on some discolored algae-like material. He stepped up to it and began tossing the vibrant green plant away from the pile skittishly. His hand closed over a large amount of the stuff and pulled it away, revealing something uncanny.

He fell back on his palm, aghast. Was that... He peaked back over the pile.

"NATALIE!" he screamed, struggling to get to his feet. "GUYS!"

Natalie only glanced in his direction, but Taro and Felicia were more serious.

"G-guys! There's a," he stammered, "there's a body!"

Natalie laughed evilly, unbelieving. His mother gasped, "What!"

"It's - It's a girl. On the beach. She's..." he breathed.

Natalie hopped up quickly, wanting to show up her little brother. She carefully, mockingly wandered over to the pile of seaweed and emitted a strict shriek in alarm, jumping back on her toes as if the sand was on fire.

"No, wait," the girl cautioned quietly. The girl, coated thickly in rich sea life, breathed. Her chest rose and fell ever-so-slightly, signaling life. "She's breathing! Gramps, Elliot, get over here."

The two rushed over to the pale-skinned female and tore her from the tide. They placed her seemingly lifeless body on the sand. Felicia urgently stopped at her side, cradling her face protectively in her hands.

"Do you think she was from the boat?" Elliot asked inanely. With his words, her breaths became more shallow, more desperate. Felicia mumbled, terrified, under her breath.

"We need to perform CPR!" Taro shouted anxiously, anything but concerned. Natalie return with a sharp glare, and Elliot froze nervously, no longer worried with his question. "Elliot!" He commanded. "You know. Hop to it!"

To Elliot's relief, the girl quickly spat out the remaining water in her lungs and cringed uncomfortably. She righted herself, sputtering, gripping her stomach as if recoiling from a blow. Her eyelids fluttered and her bleary gaze landed on Elliot. The only thing she could determine, however, was the pink blur of his hair and the giant blue smear of his garb.

"Oh, thank the goddess," Felicia said, relieved. The brunette girl blinked frantically for her sight to clear, and luckily, it did so in only seconds. However, her head continuously burned from the sea water.  
She glanced at Felicia questioningly, confused and pained.

"How do you feel, dear?" the woman asked tenderly.

The girl's voice came out hoarse and crackly, ignoring Felicia. "Where am I?"

"Sunny Island!" Taro announced proudly.

Her gaze dropped to the ground and followed up and down her arms, covered by sleeves. The misunderstanding was apparent on her astonished face. She looked distant.

"What's your name?" Felicia asked softly.

"Name?" she repeated, her voice growing clearer. "My name?"

"Yes."

She shook her head. "I don't know."

Natalie knelt next to the girl, staring into her reddened eyes. "You're Chelsea, aren't you?"

"Chelsea? I don't know," she replied. "I don't remember."

"Hey Mom," Natalie asked, "do you think near-drowning can cause amnesia?"

Felicia contemplated for a moment. "I believe any type of damage to the brain can result in memory loss."

"Yep," the young, pink-haired woman rose affirmatively. "Then you are definitely Chelsea."

"Okay. Well, what do I do?" Her glances around for answers were unsatisfied immediately - no one knew what to do yet.

Well, that was, until Taro came running back around the beach with a devious look in his eye. No one had realized he was gone, and he was only gone for what seemed like a minute. He grabbed Chelsea's arm and yanked her along, oblivious of the pleas of protest from Felicia. He practically dragged her through the town at a speed that was unbelievable for a man of his age. Her feet refused to move correctly, her mind couldn't register the ground beneath her quickly enough, and she had absolutely no thought on what they were doing or where he was taking her.

Taro stopped abruptly and released Chelsea, causing her to fly into the ground and knock her head. "Uh," she groaned, seeing stars. "I'm so dizzy."

"Well, snap out of it, because you are going to be the new farmer here!" Taro demanded, plucking her off the ground with incredible strength that nearly took her off her feet.

"Farm?" she mutter dazedly as she straightened herself and brushed her damp hair from her face.  
"Yes! You are going to help us turn this island around. It's your destiny, Chelsea!"

Her eyes narrowed at him, not completely focused on his figure. "Who are you?"

"Taro! I have run a shipping business and want to move it to this island and ship the things you produce! This place will become prosperous and amazing once again!" He sighed happily. It was like he didn't care for her questions, and he was only there for his own benefit and adventurous spirit.

She laughed. It was a nice laugh, one Taro hadn't expected.

"I can't run a farm," she stated, a tone of humor lining her voice.

"Oh yes you can, and you will! That's why you're here!"

She furrowed her brow and glanced at the fields, drinking in the sight for the first time. Everything was green - actual green. She wasn't sure why the green appealed to her, but it certainly did, along with the debris-covered plots, grassy land, the river running downstream, the forested land surrounding the property. The river hummed a melodic tune and the wind sang in her ears. Every littered object was just another note to the symphony, and the farmhouse, which stood before the farm, rang like a crashing cymbal, beginning the climax of the piece.

Before melting into a puddle of awe, Chelsea turned to Taro who was quietly boasting to himself about his persuasive skills and announced:

"I'll do it."

"Great! I knew you would say that! Now, I have some contacting to do!" he piped and darted away.  
And then Chelsea was left with her farm. Just by the why he spoke, she knew it was hers now. This place was her home, and nowhere else could match it.

She had felt a strange connection the moment she had laid eyes on the scene, something warming. All this debris and garbage was just another piece of what was now hers, and she loved it.

Her feet carried her into the plot where she began to pick at the weeds. For some reason, the thought of work was enchanting. Her mind was already constructing the future of the farm, full of fruit, livestock, poultry... everything she would have if she worked on this farm.

Most people would want to check out the farmhouse before anything else, but not this Chelsea. She just wanted the plot empty and ready. For hours she yanked weeds out of their dirt homes, lugged logs and rocks out of the way, dumping them in the river, and cleared the area of any other unwanted rubbish.  
She took her sleeve and wiped the sweat from her brow. The sunset was looming overhead, but she hadn't even gotten started. A mere fourth of the field was cleared, and it had taken all of her time. Sucking up her exhaustion, she continued to work on into to the night. She was sluggish but continued to make progress on the field.

She heaved the last stone of the day into the river and whirled to face the two run-down buildings of the barn and coop. The barn was large, but in her mind it seemed bigger. So did the coop.

She sighed and berated herself in her mind for getting so ahead of herself. It just seemed that there was too much room for ideas where all these memories once existed. She was just refilling the empty space, and she didn't exactly want the memories to return, whatever they were.

Cautious, Chelsea trudged to the farmhouse and peeked inside. It seemed in excellent condition for its age. The furniture beaten, the wood aged, and the walls littered in cobwebs. However, very little renovating seemed in order. Of course there was no table or chairs or a decent kitchen area, but it had the basics.

Her mind began colorfully redecorating and she swatted away the thought of the sea-side theme.  
She pranced over to the bed. Covers were folded neatly beside, but the bed itself had not been made. She peaked into the nightstand drawers, and luckily found some old rags suitable for dusting before she set up shop.

The last of the sunset light dwindled, but she worked through with the moonlight. Determined, she had fetched reeds and long grasses from outside and fashioned herself a broom. It didn't worked well, but it did the job well enough for her, and she ended up passing out on the plain, seemingly make-shift mattress in the corner of her new home.

Her morning came with the sound of tweeting birds. She rolled groggily from one side of the bed to the next and experienced a mini panic attack when she cleanly rolled off the side. A thud resounded around the house when she hit the floor, but she was glad to be awakened.

The rest of the insects and webs to be cleared were minimal due to her working late last night. Her stomach growled relentlessly, but she ignored it and persisted.

A rap sounded at the door and Chelsea froze solid.

"Hello?" she called anxiously.

The pink-haired girl stepped into the room and eyed the house in awe. "Holy cow, look at this. How'd you do this?"

Chelsea shrugged. "I've been working all night."

"Go figure. Anyway, we've foraged some stuff around the place and if you need anything to eat."

"I'd love to," Chelsea agreed, wanting to silence her stomach's calls of hunger.

They walked down to the town area which laid just before the farm. Just now, the idea of names popped into her head. What in the world would she call the farm?

"Hello, Chelsea. You are looking surprisingly well," Felicia commented at her dewy, renewed look. Her eyes lacked the pinkish red hue, and her complexion was astonishingly more even and tanned instead of the pasty, pale skin they had seen before.

The woman sat at a fire next to one of the town houses. Taro cooked something in the flames, suspended from a long, charred stick. Elliot lounged on the opposite side of the fire, looking up at Chelsea.

"Thank you...uh..." she hinted at a name.

"Felicia. And if you weren't already aware, this is my son, Elliot, my daughter Natalie, and my father Taro," she explained sweetly. Her voice was soft and gentle, just like a mother's should.

"Are you really taking that whole farm?" Elliot asked out of the blue.

Chelsea grinned widely. "Why not?"

* * *

_A/N:_

_I was disappointed in you, chapter two. Oh, well. The upcoming chapters will be much, much smoother. Sorry for any weird transitions/omitted details. I don't know exactly what I was trying to do with this before._

_(I decided to post this chapter the same day as the first just to get the ball rolling, I guess.)_


	3. Who She Tends to Be

Chelsea found in the next few days that A) Taro was very frightening when it came to farming, and B) she was actually alright at it. He had brought her the basic tools necessary, and seemed astounded by her ability.  
"You'll make a great rancher, Chelsea. I can feel it," Taro said, disregarding her heavy, relentless panting.

"You think so?" She grinned famously at the fellow, drenched in sweat and besprinkled in dirt. Though she appeared even more tattered than she had the previous day-her clothes worked fresh markings and her face was shabby from smearing it across her grubby arms, her spirit soared. Her smile was the most fantastic thing any of the islanders had ever witnessed, especially considering their situation. Taro nodded approvingly at her and tapped his walking stick on the muddy ground.

"I'll be heading back now. Do drop by if anything comes up."

"Right," Chelsea beamed.

Once the old man had left, the brunette giggled relief, tossing her hands up to tousle to her damp hair. Oh how the spring breeze felt nice on her skin. She flipped her hair over and raked her fingers through it, ignoring the intense knotting. The rest of her was just as disheveled, so why should she care?

Clumsily, she washed herself in the tiny spring close to the farm. It was cool, fresh water, perfect for her farming needs. She splashed the refreshing liquid across her face before pausing, befuddled, to stare at her reflection.

"Huh?"

Her own femininity startled her like a blow to her side. She had large, vastly blue eyes and warm chestnut hair that didn't look as tangled as it seemed as it toppled awkwardly off one side of her head, down to her ribcage. Her skin was pale, yet possessed a certain richness in its tone. She traced her jaw with her thumb tenderly; it was square-like, well pronounced. Her nose poked up daintily at the tip. Her lips were set in a malevolent, catlike position.  
Her own appearance flustered her brilliantly. She was tiny too, and that thickened her confusion.

"Pfft," she scoffed. "I'm good," confessed herself shakily. Though she had expected something meaner, tougher looking, she didn't care!

"Hey there. Having fun talking with yourself?"

This high, smooth voice interrupted Chelsea's thoughts, and even set her aback. But suddenly, before her was a beautiful blond woman in cowgirl-ish clothing. She smirked at Chelsea, amused by her current position.

"Oh yeah," Chelsea return once her composure did. "Loads of fun."

"Hmf," the woman hummed with a content expression as she offered to help Chelsea to her feet. "I'm Julia. Gonna be living on this island."

Chelsea took the offer and immediately brushed off her clothes, noticing Julia's spotless ones. "I'm...Chelsea."

"You don't sound too sure."

"I'm not sure of much right now, just that I'm the new farmer around here."

Julia's lips curled up, "Right. Well, my family's here to help you with all your ranching needs."

"Ranching... Like with animals?" Chelsea wondered.

The blond nodded and Chelsea drew back her faint smile. Julia cocked her head subtly, quizzically.

"Oh, sorry. I'm just not the greatest with animals. Oh course, though, I'll try my best," Chelsea explained quickly, expressing real enthusiasm. Julia smiled too, glad for a girl with such a peppy attitude. Usually it was her who had to get people going.

"That's great," she remarked. "Uh... I'll see you around. My mom only wanted me to drop by the say hi. Visit our shop sometime?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure."

"M'kay. I have to go help her clean. You good with getting yours cleaned up?"

"I'm actually finished."

"Nice," she complimented sweetly. "See ya'."

Chelsea waved her farewell and seated herself back on the ground before watching the blond bound back across the bridge.

Once again, she was alone. The air swept by her, and her attention was driven back to it.

She decided nature was the most pleasant thing she could think of, and it was not just because she didn't have memory of anything else... She breathed in the breeze greedily.

Memory. That was the name of the ranch. Memory Ranch. These would be her new memories... This was her home.  
She settled herself in the damp grass and sighed gleefully, laughing on her breath. The water flowed oddly in the spring beside her, swirling in a circle due to an unknown, underground movement. The dulcet sound was music to her, and she listened as she hummed alongside it. Everything felt at peace.

It was strange that she refused to question her happiness or her origin, but this was just Chelsea.

In the next few days, people flooded into town. Sunny Island people called the place as they chatted about starting over in this new scene. First in was a carpenter who instantly found satisfying work on the run-down island. He only gruffly greeted Chelsea, stating his name was Gannon and his purpose on the island: to build and fix stuff. A merchant also came in, looking for a peaceful place to set up shop and raise his young son. Others moved in without official greeting at her home. Lastly, Chelsea got around to meeting up with Julia and meeting her mother, Mirabelle.

Mirabelle was a plump woman in her late forties. Her blond hair was streaked with pieces of grey, but her smile brought her youth back in an instant, and Chelsea took a great liking to the woman. She was kind, down to earth, and motherly, but not quite in the same way Felicia was. Mirabelle displayed her annoyance with evasion promptly; she was a blunt person. However, it wasn't a bad thing at all. In fact, Chelsea admired it in her.

"Okay you two, we can't sit here and chat for hours," Julia complained after realizing she'd completed decorating her bedroom while they were conversing back and forth.

"I think her stories are so interesting though!" Chelsea pouted happily.

"Oh, no," Mirabelle chuckled, feeling as though Chelsea's comment was only in her welfare. "You two should go explore the island. No need to keep me company. I've plenty of work to do."

"If you insist," Julia said lackadaisically, grabbing Chelsea by the arm and pulling her away from her mother. No one complained, but Chelsea felt a pang of insecurity.

Just as they passed through the door, a strawberry blond Elliot was slipping by them.

"Hello Julia," he said rather nervously.

"Elliot," she returned with a smug smile before tossing her hair his direction as if she didn't care. He clenched his teeth carefully, also feigning apathy.

Once he was out of ear-shot and they were nearing the general store, Chelsea mumbled, "You intend to toy with him, don't you?"  
She shook her head, flopping her curls across her shoulders. "Not toy with him... He's actually pretty cute."

"Oh. I guess I wouldn't know."

"That he's cute?"

"I haven't seen many guys, Julia."

"What? You're kidding me, right?" She halted and flipped around to give me skeptical glance. "What, were you raised in complete solitude?"

Chelsea frowned darkly and shifted into an instant melancholy tone. "Um. I was holed up from the world most of my life by my abusive mother... She kind of..."

Julia looked positively aghast, her jaw slack. Her hand cupped her mouth in shock. Chelsea suppressed a laugh.  
"I'm kidding. Truth be told, I just can't remember. Hit my head a week or so back."

"Really?" she beamed sympathetically, a little tempered from the joke. "I'm so sorry, Chels!"

Chelsea shrugged acceptingly. "I don't really mind. I mean, if I ever get my memory recovered I might mind, but for now, I'm just dealing with everything as it comes along."

"That's amazing... And you know, Elliot should be about the mid-point for you when it comes to cute guys," she explained smugly.

Chelsea sniffed. "Not really sure what to think of that. And I don't think I'm the right person to judge guys."  
"Oh, come on! I need someone to girl talk with!"

Chelsea doubted this. "Someone to girl talk with or someone to be there to listen to you blab on about such guys?"  
Her eyes lit up fiercely. "Chelsea... I can't believe you know me so well."

They both stifled a laugh and walked across the river, chatting about mindless things until the sun had drooped and an orange radiance filled the sky.


	4. More

Chelsea rose early to begin her chores-today included chopping up lumber.

Her forehead beaded with sweat with every swing of the axe, but each one guaranteed more lumber for her, so she merrily did the work. Before long, she was humming a sweet melody. Not certain of the entire movement, she created each verse as it came and drew it out softly. Even in this lack of knowledge she found no oddity to how severe her amnesia really was. She'd forgotten everything, even simple songs.

On and on she worked until the sun had passed its zenith and her weary body gave way to the pressure. Axe in hand, she crumpled onto the dirt, lucky that she'd finished storing the lumber she'd cut.

Thank goodness Gannon set up plumbing, she thought as she imagined the bliss of a shower. He'd installed it for free, insisting she was one of the nicer folk in town. Now she dragged herself back to her home and flopped into the shower immediately, eager to wash away her engulfing torpor. As cold as possible, she stood in the shower until her body had emitted the extra heat of exertion and gave a slight shiver. Then, simply, she wrapped herself in a robe-a gift from the others due to her 'traumatic' situation, as they called it-and washed her hands deliberately in the sink.

Julia smirked, heading up to Chelsea's door with her stubborn companion, a cynical man who rarely offered so much as a smile. The blond was eager for him to meet Chelsea and had forced him to come after brief threats to his mental health.

The white-haired, amethyst-eyed cowboy sighed often, but never gave a word of complaint, knowing what Julia was capable of. She was sickening and manipulative when she wanted to be.

Julia rapped on the door only twice before just barging in, leaving the cowboy in the dust behind her swift figure. He dared not go in-he hadn't planned to anyway. All he had to do was glance and leave.  
Almost instantaneously, a shriek sounded from inside, followed by a mortified, "JULIA!"

He waited absently, frowning distastefully. He could relate to her barging in, and he'd screamed at her on multiple occasions. Julia laughed from inside the house evilly.

"Sorry, Chels. That was too funny!"

"That was not funny," a dark voice growled homicidally. Chelsea's tone amused him ever-so slightly. "If you ever, ever do that again..." She didn't finished her comment. "What was so freaking important?"

"I wanted you to meet someone!"

"Now?"

"Yeah, come on, you're decent enough."

"Fine."

Chelsea walked out the door and nearly rammed into the cowboy.

"Whoops," she stated blankly before looking up at him and regaining her footing. He enraptured her attention effortlessly and she stared at him meekly. She swallowed the saliva in her mouth.

"This is Vaughn," Julia informed, swaying back and forth with his hands behind her back.

Chelsea was a mess. Her hair awfully fell around her face, neglected completely. Dark bags shaded her eyes and her entire face was dappled in red from her constantly wiping away sweat. Frail and only wearing a bathrobe, Vaughn glanced skeptically at her. However, to her, his glare was wrapped and presented in ice.

He was marvelous. More than marvelous. His hair was silvery yet thick, a sign of youth despite the shaggy gray ends. His eyes gleamed daringly in the lack of light, due to his black Stenson. He pulled it down to cover most of his eyes.

"I'm leaving," her pronounced. His voice was low and untamed. Chelsea's breathing faltered at the sound of it.

"Oh, no you're not!" Julia countered, catching him by the arm. "I said visit, not just look at her. Trust me, you'll love her."

He grumbled distastefully as she lead him inside Chelsea's house. The unaware hostess sullenly murmured under her breath.

Julia sat Vaughn down at the table. He looked intensely in pain or if he were being tortured by her as he complied. Chelsea weakly circumvented the small table, keeping her distance from the ominous man.

Meanwhile, the peppy blond danced around Chelsea's kitchen like she owned the place, searching for glasses. She'd known her for what, four days? And this was the second time she'd ever been in her house? Goddess, Julia was demanding. Furtively, Chelsea's attention returned to the cowboy.

"Stop," he demanded roughly.

Chelsea didn't reply, startled.

"Staring at me." A narrowed amethyst eye glowered at her through his silvery hair. Her own eyes darted away obediently as Julia complained, "Vaughn, you're a horrible guest."

"Guess I shouldn't have come then," he replied brusquely, gruffly. Chelsea gawked at Julia, choking on a lump in her throat that appeared with his words. His figure vanished behind the doorway incomprehensibly swiftly-in only a second-with a tense, lanky stride.

He had a deep, intense voice that made her shutter. And his appearance wasn't exactly helping with that; he looked brutal with that lancing amethyst gaze of his.

"Is he always like this?" she asked numbly, running her stone-cold fingers up and down her arms.

"He's not usually this bad. Guess he's not really into this whole island thing."

Chelsea pursed her chilled, chapped lips. "Where does he live?"

"With us," the blond explained. Noticing Chelsea's composure and pale complexion, she added, "Only on Wednesdays and Thursdays though."

Chelsea breathed a surreptitious sigh of relief. Something about that guy. His glare, his body language just terrified her to the core. She trembled viciously as she imagined his strange purple-hued eyes, glaring, boring into her like a drill bit entwining itself into soft pine, leaving a large, uncomfortable wound. For the first time she felt fear, and she wandered over to her bed before coiling herself tightly in the covers.

"He really did a number on you that quickly?"

She put on a passive expression. "I'm just cold, Julia. But I am sort of rattled. I've never met anyone that blunt."

Julia chewed her lip and placed her hands sassily on her hips, contemplating. "I don't think I've really seen him act that badly in a while. Sorry. I just wanted you to meet people."

"S'alright," Chelsea murmured, blank.

Despite the strange encounter, Chelsea recovered within the hour and retreated to her fields to water the turnips. (She'd done this earlier in the day too, but after testing the dehydrated soil with a fingertip, she decided another watering couldn't hurt.) It was tedious, going back and forth from the spring to the field to refill and water, but hey, she had all the time in the world.

As she watered the plants, she smiled without regret. The little things had begun to poke their heads out of the soil, and they were a lush verdant hue. She imaged once she began harvest, she'd be overjoyed. She could tell they would be perfect. Before long, she'd finished watering the few of them.  
Now today was particularly hot, especially for the early springtime. Perhaps she was a person better adapted to the cold? Anyway, she wiped the sweat from her brow and peered off to the run-down coop and barn. It intrigued her that they were still standing in their condition, but that was just fine-sturdy foundation couldn't be a bad thing.

She frowned at the thought of herself being penniless and not being able to afford a revamp for the buildings. For the past while, Taro's family had been aiding in feeding her, but she often skipped meals, insisting they were too generous and went to forage. She'd yet to find anything, but at least she had a start, and once the nuts and berries had begun growing, she could make a little money by shipping them in the bin Taro had set up on her farm, next to the house. Sure, it wouldn't be enough to support herself properly, but any was good in her mind.

The sun barely shined through the trees bordering her farm now, and it seemed as if they were ablaze with the unique crimson-copper fusion the sunset emitted each day. She really adored the colors, and laid down on the grass to watch the pink clouds until they faded into the midnight blue of the evening.

But here, even the moon shone wonderfully. And all the stars. Chelsea wondered what it would be like to see them in the city. Would it be the same? Bleakly, her mind brewed an image of a crude, starless night, one where she couldn't pluck out the gleaming constellations. Quickly though she shook away that thought and focused on drawing imaginary lines in the sky.

* * *

Chelsea awoke dizzily the next day from dozing off on the rough, hard ground without support for her head. Yawning groggily, she propped herself up and rubbed her aching muscles. However, she couldn't do so for long. She had grown extremely tense and tender along her back, so her massage seemed to be more of a pain than an aid.

She knew better. Sucking it up, she limply made her way back to the house and thoroughly rubbed her back wherever she could reach, but sadly, her arms were only so flexible and she settled.

Today seemed much more sullen than the previous. She loomed rather than skipped around the farm, re-watering the crops which were again dry. And she hummed to the sky, wondering why the world felt this way.

* * *

A/N;

_Who am I writing for? Myself? Well, I have a great many things now circumventing my interest. Harvest Moon lingers far though. I've lost motivation._


End file.
